"Have you ever been in love?" he asks.
"I'd like to say no, but that would probably be a lie. Only it wasn't the nice, quiet, real type of love. It was the type that kept you up until 3 am because you couldn't stop feeling the absence of his arms. It was the kind that made you wish it was always winter so you'd never have to smell the summer air you met him in. It was the kind that made you feel like you were burning and I thought that was okay. It took me a long time to figure out that hellfire and love are not the same thing."
"I'm sorry."
"Have you? Ever been in love?"
"No."
"How do you imagine it then?"
"I imagine it would be two people out on a balcony even when there's a party going on inside. I imagine they would tell each other stories and laugh in each other's company. I imagine that when together, their broken pieces would fit quite nicely. They would smile and blush and know, they would just know."
"Sort of like this?"
"Yes, exactly like this."
She leaned in to kiss him but he backed away. She assumed he was just shy or naive or unsure or scared.
"What're you so afraid of?" she asks. He is three inches taller than her but he looks so small, as if his soul is cowering.
"Love. I'm scared of love. I've seen the way my parents went from a big wedding and four kids to screaming matches on the back porch. I've seen the way boys fawn over my big sister then leave her once they got what they wanted. I've seen the way my eighth grade sister wrote a boy's name all over her notebook and he found it and laughed at her. I have a rule: I don't fall in love."
She blinked her big eyes. "Can I be the exception?"
"Yes."
